Paradox
by scarlet phlame
Summary: You know the one thing you always miss the most when you go traveling with a funky Timelord guy in a blue box? ...Potato chips. Seriously, if you ever go traveling through space and time, always remember to keep your supply of Lays high. You will regret doing otherwise. Oh, and the good lace-up shoes. Do not get me started on running away from aliens on a rocky mountain barefoot.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

I'm falling.

Not the graceful kind.

Not the kind where you have time to look at all the stars and the light and the darkness around you.

It's the fast kind, where you can barely feel your arms and legs against the chill of the wind. The kind where you don't have time to think anything.

Where you're just there. You're not anybody. You just sort of exist.

The kind where there doesn't seem like any time for your life to flash before your eyes. And I'm falling and falling and I don't- I can't stop.

I'm picking up little bits and pieces as I fall. I can see a guy, a stranger, laughing. I can see a woman smiling.

I can see snow and rain and grass and sun and happiness and sadness. I'm seeing little bits and pieces of time- fragments of forgotten moments, lost moments, things that are fixed and are not fixed.

Everything is nonsense but everything makes sense. I don't feel like jelly or water because I don't feel like anything.

I don't think about anyone. Is that selfish? For me to spend my last moments not considering anyone, anything, not caring? For me to just let myself fall?

I'm hurtling towards this bright, blinding light. I sink into it like a rock falling to the bottom of a glassy pond.

I'm suddenly immersed in this light. It's blinding me and I can't see a single damn thing.

The falling is something I am growing to regret.

Because I am the one who jumped.

When I finally, finally land, I land back on the ground. And there is one definite fact in all these thoughts running through my head.

I am alone.

And I don't think that casual, normal fact, has hurt so much before.


	2. Chapter 2: Opening

To be honest, I've never liked Japan.

It's 2013. Apparently this is the year where there are kendamas every turn 'round the block in the USA, and the year of the terrible Boston Marathon.

Let me explain. I am a very dramatic person. I love drama. Which is why I'm quite perfect as a reporter. That's what puts the excitement- the punch- into my life.

The only problem is, the world does not seem to have enough drama in it. Which does sound a bit absurd, I will admit.

But that was how it started; drama.

See, I was asked by my boss last week to go to Japan. Do a study on the cherry blossom trees, which are apparently in full bloom this week.

Which is all fine and dandy. I'm a terrible traveller, though. Always leaving my toothbrush on the plane; one time, even a slipper. I mean, how do you leave a slipper on a plane?

These were the main thoughts running through my head as I slipped onto one of the little underground trains. I don't speak Japanese, so, honestly, they might as well be talking gibberish.

Things start picking up about halfway to my station.

The lights all go out just as we reach that little boarding station at the corner.

It's a power outage, I guess.

Which excites me. It's the most exciting thing that has happened to me all day. Well, all month.

So I immediately jump out of my seat and run to the window.

There's smoke.

Like lots of it. Billowing clouds, gasping for air as they run up to the ceiling. Thick black smoke.

The doors automatically open. People flood out. I'm so stupid; I should have gone to the door. Now I'm stuck by the window in the middle of a frantic crowd of people.

I push away from the window as hard as I can, but I'm just shoved back onto the surface, smothered by people.

I try to shout but my voice is lost amongst the heavy chorus of already panicked voices. I don't understand what they are saying.

Okay, so maybe this is a bit too much drama for me.

I am around the last person to escape from the train. As soon as I make it out, I look ahead, and gasp.

There are still some cabins submerged in the back of the tunnel. Making my cabin the only one who was able to get out that day.

And also making the front of the train clearly visible.

There are huge slash marks across the front of the train. Like something tore it up.

I shove my way to the front the best I can, straining to see, to get a better look. I would take out my camera, but it is most likely it would be lost. Besides, any pictures would be all blurry from the shaking.

When I do get to the front, I immediately regret my mistake.

The driver is dead.

He's brutally mangled. His neck torn off.

There are heavy slash marks across the front of the train. Like something big came and crushed the train like a toy. The window is punctured and there are little flecks of shining glass that have been embedded in the driver's body like thousands of bullets.

I can't look. I turn around.

Slippers on a plane and toothbrushes don't even seem important anymore, now. All I can think is 'how how how'. 'Why why why'.

Who would do this? To anyone?

Or... what?

My number one priority is now leaving. But hard as I try, I can't seem to manage to get out of the station. It seems to be locked down.

That's more scary than it sounds.

People are panicking now. So am I. This hasn't ever happened to me before. Suddenly, I can understand how traumatic events like the Boston Marathon can be. I suppose the reason I have such a cold outlook on such attacks is because I don't understand.

Good. I'm glad I understand. I am quitting tomorrow. Or as soon as I find a phone. Maybe sooner, if possible. It seems the noise below would wake the devil himself from a slumber.

I walk fast. There doesn't appear to be anyplace to find rest from the noise.

I turn another corner, keep on walking. This tunnel is apparently empty. I wonder why as I continue to walk.

Then I stop.

There's a strange blue box in the corner. It wouldn't alarm me that much, except it seems so out of place. The sign is written in English.

I look around. There's plenty of signs written in English here, now.

I blink. The signs change back to a foreign language.

Maybe I was imagining it. I think I hit my head pretty hard on that window anyway.

I try to move. I can't. My feet are rooted to the spot and I just stand there, staring at that box, like it's something out of a dream. I know this thing from somewhere.

Then it hits me. It looks like the... no, it can't be. That's fiction.

Okay, I am definitely going insane.

So I turn around and keep walking, then I pause, and run back.

The signs are back to English.

I grab my phone from my pocket. The connection is terrible. I take a note on what the sign says in English. Then I snap a picture of the sign and the... TARDIS.

And I turn and run out of that place.

* * *

About ten or twelve hours later, they let us out of the station.

I have to take another train to escape. During the entire time, I think about the driver. I can't wipe the image from my mind. I keep imagining his mangled corpse and how those gaping marks on the front of the train seemed to cut so deeply.

I wonder if whoever did that will come back and do it to all the other trains. I can imagine huge, heavy claws cutting through the metal like a knife through butter. It's a foolish, seemingly paranoid thought, but I can't stop worrying about it all the way home.

I reach my hotel ages later, dumping myself on the bed. I keep all the lights on, my eyes darting back and forth. I don't shower or change, I just lie there and stare at the ceiling for a long, long time.

I am quitting.

I grab my phone, ready to dial my bosses number, and quite suddenly, someone bursts into my hotel room.

I scream at the top of my lungs. They dive onto the bed. I'm freaking out. All these alarms are going off in my head.

Everything happens too fast. The person grabs my phone from my hand, takes off, and slams the door shut.

I pant heavily. What the hell was that?!

I don't sleep after that. I lock the door, not bothering to wonder how they even got in, and crawl into the corner, pulling myself into a little ball. I encase myself with blankets and pillows and hide in that little shell.

I might've fallen asleep. I honestly can't remember anything but waking up and still as scared as I was before.

This wasn't supposed to happen. All I was supposed to do was come here. Get a story. Write it. Mail it to my boss. Then leave. I wasn't supposed to get caught up in the middle of something like this.

I'm tempted to stay in my room all day, but I need to find out what happened. That's the thing with me; I'm very down to facts. The reason I am so scared about what happened last night is because there was no reason. It was just something that happened randomly. I don't bother to think about that box, because I was probably imagining it anyway in my panic. I've read articles on that kind of stuff.

I do research.

Can't believe it.

There are so many different sources. I might've killed that hotel's wifi with the amount of research I did. But all those reports, all those comments and claims, and there's just one solid fact.

Nobody knows what happened.

Kaput. They know absolutely zero, zelch. They don't know who it was, why it happened, or what the motive was. All they can state is the date and time, and some articles featuring comments from traumatized victims.

After a few hours of searching with fruitless results, I lean back into my chair and rub my forehead with my fingers. There's obviously no point to this. I don't know what I was thinking. I just wish I knew what was going on.

* * *

I'm eventually forced to go outside. The hotel was giving me a headache anyway, and I honestly don't feel any safer in there than I do outside (thanks, random phone-robber).

I wouldn't have such a problem with outdoors normally. It's incredible how one little incident can completely change your outlook on life.

I stare ahead of me for a long, long time.

Then I start walking.

I march straight down to those subway tunnels. I am getting to the bottom of this.


	3. Chapter 3: Paradox

I'm at a loss for words.

I can walk all the way to the station, but when it comes down to it, I can't go down there. I just can't.

I try to reason with myself, but I honestly find any reason in this situation possible. Walking down there, to me, seems like signing my own death certificate.

I hug myself as I walk back to my apartment. It should be a nice day today. I should be walking around, enjoying myself, arguing with a Japanese guy in my not-so-fluent second language. I should be taking notes on the cherry blossom trees and drinking green tea. Not being scared out of my wits, so scared I can't even step foot on a damn train.

I arrive back at my hotel room. Just as I make a move to open the door, I freeze.

There's a note taped to the handle.

I peel it off. It's a sticky note, and it says three words. Just three.

_Akihabara Maid Cafe_

I stare. Someone must've put the wrong note on the wrong door. But it's in English.

I reason with myself. This is a hotel. I bet plenty of English tourists are here. Course it'd be in English.

I would throw it away, but I can't. I just keep staring at those three words.

There's just one teensy little problem.

_This note is written in my handwriting._

I grab my coat and my boots from the inside of the apartment, not even bothering to lock the door as I march off.

I have a whole lot of walking to do.

* * *

Maid cafes are these apparently 'incredible' places. Basically, they're a cafe where you kinda go in and get served by high-school kids dressed like French Maids. They do all these cutesy things like make hearts with their hands and take pictures with you.

And they are super popular. Everyone wants to go to a maid cafe.

So the question is, why is finding one so damn hard?!

I wish the sticky note had been more specific. Like maybe put a Google Map link on it or something. I dunno.

I try to ignore the fact that it's written in my own handwriting.

I turn down another alley; this place is so crowded- and I make my way towards a store.

I bump into a guy- probably a cosplayer- wearing a bow tie and a tweed jacket. I quickly mutter an apology in Japanese and keep walking.

I know what you're thinking, so don't get mad at me. People cosplay in Japan all the time. You can literally be walking down a nice, fancy, high end street like Ginza and see a guy and a girl dressed like the Queen of Hearts and the White Rabbit. It's no surprise to see a look-alike of the Eleventh Doctor walking casually around in Akihabara- the Electric City.

It _is_ a surprise when said look-alike turns around and grabs you by the shoulders.

"Ashey?! What are you doing here?!" the guy asks.

I shove him off of me. "You speak English?! And how do you know my name?! Actually, how do you know my nickname?!"

He studies me for a moment. "Ah. You're not wearing the scarf." There is sadness evident in his voice.

AND I AM SO DAMN CONFUSED!

"What the hell is going on?! Who are you?!" I shout. "Look, mister, I don't know if you think it's funny, stalking me around my-"

He interrupts me in mid-sentence. "Ashey, what are you talking about? I-"

I grab the sticky note from my pocket and smack it in his face. "This! I bet you're the one behind this all! You stuck this on my door, and I bet you're somehow behind the subway station last night!"

He pulls it off his face an examines it. "Huh," he mutters. "Interesting. I didn't write this, Ashey," he tells me.

"My name is Ashley!" I shout. "And... and..."

I'm all out of breath. This guy is scaring me. Creepy cosplaying scary guy.

"I... I'm warning you!" I scream. "I'm a rainbow belt in karate!"

Nobody seems to notice us. I suppose it's a bit like those scenes from the movies, where you have two characters argue and take it out, and nobody does anything.

He quirks an eyebrow at my statement.

Then he turns, and leaves.

I'm tempted to let him go, but I'm taking this as a 'I'm running away from you because you have completely pinpointed my evil plot' gesture, and I chase after him and grab the back of his jacket.

"Stop!" I shout.

He turns around. "What is it now?"

I hesitate. "Where are you going? What are you doing?! I want answers, mister!"

He nods. "You should go to the maid cafe."

"No!" I shout.

He points at the now-crumpled sticky note in my hand. "You really ought to listen to yourself more often, you know."

He turns to leave but I grab his arm.

"How come you look like the Eleventh Doctor?" I blurt.

He studies my expression. "All right, all right, you got me. I'm Matt Erickson, a look-alike of Matt Smith. I was trying to-"

"No, you're not," I say, "because you knew this was in my handwriting."

"Ah," he says. "Lucky guess?"

I glare at him. "You and me, maid cafe, now."

I try to drag him. What has he been eating? Rocks? He doesn't budge an inch.

He folds his arms. "You do realize it's preposterous for me, a fictional character, to be real? I've told you the truth- it's your choice whether you listen to it or not."

"I don't care," I snap. "I don't care if you're a cat in disguise or a donkey or a cow, you obviously know what's going on and I'm going to find out if it kills me!"

There's a sudden bang. He whirls around, then looks back at me apologetically.

"Sorry," he says. "Gotta go."

Then he bolts.

I'm not gonna be stupid anymore.

I chase after him.

You know how in dreams, when you run, you kind of run in slow-motion? You can be propelling your feet hard as you can, and still not get anywhere. You can dig your feet into the ground and not budge an inch?

That's kind of what my pursuit towards the big-eared guy seems like. Except I am running as fast as I can. And he's running, like, 20 times faster.

I manage to get to the centre of the road. Nobody's there.

I glance around, like an idiot. Nobody! Nobody's here! Where the hell would-

There's a loud horn sounding. I turn around.

Big 'ol truck headed my way.

I scream at the top of my lungs. I probably sound like a four-year old wailing about not getting a birthday present.

Somebody crashes into me, sends me flying, away from the truck and onto the concrete sidewalk.

People are gathering now. The driver didn't stop.

"You idiot!" the person who pushed me out of the way screams.

In English.

I look up.

This is the same person who took my phone earlier. Blue hoodie, red scarf, the lot.

I do what my instincts tell me to do. I yank off the hood, revealing their face. And then I gasp.

I see me.

When I say "I see me", I don't mean I see me on a shirt or me in a mirror. I honestly don't know where you would get that, either, because I didn't mention any such things.

When I say "I see me", I mean I see me. I am literally seeing me. Me wearing a scarf. And a blue hoodie.

"What?" I gasp, staring at... uh, Scarfy. That was my nickname for Four, but it's also the only name I can come up with for that version of me at the moment.

"You idiot!" she repeats. There's this huge crowd of people forming around me. She looks behind her. Then she slaps something into my hands.

"Press the middle button," she snaps. Then she stands up.

"Wait," I say, "I-"

She takes off.

People are shouting now. I almost got hit by a truck. Then was saved by someone who could be my identical twin. And this all happened about twelve hours after one of the most major accidents in the nation.

Yep, for once, I'm going to take my advice.

I open the thing in my hands. Then I press the middle button.

I blink. When I look up...

I'm in the TARDIS.


	4. Chapter 4: The TARDIS

"Wow," I manage to breathe, looking around nervously. "It really _is_ bigger on the inside."

I'm standing in the TARDIS. Literally standing in the TARDIS.

Okay, me. Deep breaths. Don't faint.

"I'm on the TARDIS," I say.

"Really? Hadn't noticed," the Doctor quips, with a cheeky smile. Oh, so he's here too. That's kind of nice. Of course he would be in the TARDIS. What am I even thinking?

"Is she getting into my head?" I ask suddenly. "Like when we go to Germany, will I speak German? And is it like a dub thing? Because I've always wondered that, when they go to places with different languages, and people talk different words at different paces, does it look like a badly-dubbed Korean drama?" I ask.

He answers with a simple shake of his head.

"Ooh! Where are we going to first?!" I ask.

"Mental hospital," he suggests.

"No, really, where?!" I ask. "Well, you are gonna take me somewhere, right? Because... I saw a dead person. And if you see dead people, then that's like a golden ticket onto the TARDIS."

I walk up to him, glance him over. He could be David Tennant's clone. Maybe he is. I poke him, then giggle like an insane person. Well, maybe I am insane. Maybe I'm imagining this all.

Well, shoot. I don't care. Screw you, sanity.

"You're ten," I say. "The tenth doctor."

He nods in response. "That's me," he says. "Any more questions?"

"I want to know if the TARDIS breathes!" I exclaim. I pause, sucking in a breath. "And... and... and... uh, is there really a pool in the library?"

That's my last thought before I fall over in a dead faint.

* * *

I wake up on a couch that is definitely not in my living room. I glance around. I'm in Ten's TARDIS, complete with the little coral sculptures adorning the pulsating blue interior.

Wow. I think I must've had a serious fangirl attack earlier.

I sit up, fix myself a bit. I see Ten, leaning against the TARIDS console. He looks amused. And also slightly fascinated.

"So I see this is when you first meet me."

"You know me?" I ask. "So did I know, like, one of your past incarnations or something? Do I meet Sarah Jane?"

Gosh, I feel like a fangirl. Doctor Who isn't even my favorite show.

I suspect that may eventually change.

The Doctor shakes his head. "Naw."

"Oh," I say, shoulders sagging. "I got NuWho."

He quirks an eyebrow. "Well, then, I know for a fact it's you, that is such an Ashey thing to say."

"What's up with the nickname?" I wonder. "My name is Ashley. A-S-H-L-E-Y," I spell.

He shrugs. "You're the one who invented it."

Oh. Right. Probably Scarfy. Or maybe another future Me. Gosh, that's so confusing.

"So..." I kick at the floor. "Are we gonna go and kill zombies or whatever? Gonna save the universe from ending?"

"I think maybe you might need a little rest first," he finally replies. I smack him in the arm.

"I mean it," I say. Then a thought hits me. "Do I... uh, how do you know me then?"

"There's a paradox," he tells me, suddenly serious. "I'm not supposed to be here," he explains. "Something happened, something I can't remember, and I was sent back to the moment we first met."

I nod. "Okay. Do you know what the paradox might be and how to... fix it?"

The darkness in his eyes lifts. "Nope!" he says, suddenly cheerful. "Although that doesn't really matter."

I bite my lower lip. I used to make fun of Nine, saying he was bipolar or emo or something, and now I am seriously starting to wonder about that. "So... are we gonna go someplace? Like... to another planet?"

He reaches into his jacket and takes out a huge rolled-up newspaper. Then he tosses it to me. I open it up, confused.

"This is a comic section," I say.

He motions for me to flip it over. I flip it over.

Oh.

This is the article from that incident that happened the other day. My head feels light, thinking of that. I'm suddenly reminded of me straining to see out the window. That feels like such a long time ago, when things actually made sense.

Then I realize just where the hell I am.

The TARDIS. Talking to the Doctor. Asking if we're going to go on adventures.

What the hell am I doing?!

I throw the newspaper on the floor and cover my mouth. "What am- no!" I shout.

He doesn't make a move to stop me, although he does protest as I run towards the door.

"Ashey, wait a minute, you can't just go-"

I yank open the TARDIS doors. My heart seems to stop.

We're in outer space.

I back away, covering my mouth. I feel like I'm going to get sucked out. Grabbing onto the TARDIS railing, I brace myself for whatever horrible thing I'm sure will happen next.

Nothing happens. We just keep floating. I'm too scared to blink.

Somehow, the TARDIS doors creak shut. I'm relieved. I don't let go of the railing, though. I watch my knuckles turn white.

I turn back to Ten. He's got that somber expression back on.

"Sorry," I say. "I just need a minute."

I walk in a straight line, hoping that the TARDIS does rearrange itself. It does. I find myself in a library. When I look back, there is no sign of the console room.

Good. That place freaks me out.

The library seems positively alive as well, but I feel a lot safer here. I've always loved books- they are my inspiration anyway.

I ignore the swimming pool right in the centre of the library. I pretend I'm back in America, ordering fries at McDonalds. I picture myself walking up great stone steps. Opening the door. Fingers feeling the golden handle. Pulling it open with a squeak. Walking in. Making faces at copies of 'Two Years Before The Mast' and pulling books like 'Hunger Games' off the shelf.

Do not even get me started on Twilight.

I walk around the TARDIS library. This place is massive. It doesn't seem like the ones at home. Those feel more cozy.

I'm so weird, I know.

I pull a book off the shelf and examine it. Yuck. It's way too long.

I find something kind of short after about fifteen minutes of digging. But it's not the length that interests me, it's the title, which might be worse than the first page of Twilight. Which is saying something. '_Doctor Who: The Coming of the Terraphiles_'.

I nearly gag. What's Ten doing with this book in his TARDIS?

I read it. I think I fell asleep halfway through, because the middle of the book is a bit of a blur. I could've sworn around page whatever, something hit me in the face. It's probably just my imagination being my imagination again.

I go back to the book and think nothing more of it.

Okay. So what is Ten doing with a _really bad_ book about his future incarnation in his TARDIS?

And by _really bad_, I mean _really_ bad.

I'm tempted to go ask him. But I don't want to think about that stuff right now.

...Aw, screw it. I'm too curious. Besides, I think I'm ready. Sort of. About as ready as I'll ever be.

I walk out of the library, book in hand. I guess the TARDIS can tap into my head easy by now.

I hold up the book and point to it. "What's up with this?"

He turns around.

"I found it in the TARDIS library," I complain. "Don't tell me you actually read books like this."

He walks up to me. Takes the book from my hands. Skims it. Then shrugs.

"I didn't choose this. The TARDIS did. I guess she thought you might enjoy it," he says.

"Then you need to fix that, because I thought it was the worst book I've ever read," I tell him. Don't get me wrong. I'm not trying to be mean. I'm just very straightforward. If I don't like something, I won't lie and sugarcoat it.

The Doctor shrugs. "S'pose. Now!" he claps his hands together. "Where to first?"

"Weren't we gonna go to the subway?" I ask.

"That was what was originally supposed to happen," he says, "but I don't think I want a repeat of last time."

"Okay, hold the phone box," I say. "You've got memories of all these things which I don't know. So spill."

"It's the Paradox," the Doctor says, as if I ought to know what the heck is going on.

"What?" I ask, and he looks at me as if I just dribbled on my shirt. I pause. "What's this Paradox?"

He leans backwards. "It's kind of like this..." he scratches the back of his neck. "How to explain it, how to explain it... all right," he says. "Think of it this way. There are some paradoxes where time repeats itself. Most of the time, paradoxes work when these major space-time disturbances occur."

I nod. "Like Amy and Rory in the Angels Take Manhattan."

"Yeah," he says. Oops. I forgot that really happened. He looks kind of upset.

I change the subject. "So... uh, this Paradox does what exactly? And what have I got to do with it?"

"Right," he says, nodding, all traces of sadness leaving his face. "Well, this particular paradox involves both our timelines. Like I said before, I'm not exactly sure what created this paradox. But since we seem to be the only ones who know..."

"It's got something to do between the both of us," I say. He nods.

"What happened was we were both shot back into our own timelines. But I think the main issue of the paradox might've been you, since I maintained my memories of everything up to regenerating into my twelfth regeneration."

I breathe out. That is a long time I stuck with him. No wonder he seemed to meek before. I wonder how I would feel if I knew someone for that long, and then met a past version of them and they didn't remember me.

Now I feel kinda bad. I always run back to my books when I panic. I panic when I don't understand something. And what do I understand less than the TARDIS?

...Yeah, that's why I honestly have no clue how we ever worked out in the first place.

I'm reminded of when I first watched Doctor Who with a friend who was constantly imagining playing with David Tennant's hair. I honestly thought it was kinda kinky and weird, but now I am looking at his lookalike and thinking the same thing.

Geez. This isn't good for me. And probably not for my health and mental sanity anyway.

"Do you know how we get out of the paradox?" I finally wonder.

He doesn't answer me. So that means either he knows and he doesn't want to tell me, or he has absolutely no clue and doesn't know how to answer. Either one is a possibility.

He clears his throat, changes the subject. Puts on a smile.

"So, then, Ashey, where do you want to go next?"

* * *

_**Hello! Scarlet Phlame here! I am the author of this story... which is very obvious and something that was unnecessary to state...**_

_**Let me start again. **_

_**I hope you're enjoying the story! *Note that this story does NOT explicitly ship Ten and Ashley... no kissing scenes or anything like that. Expect something similar to RosexDoctor relationship of season one and two, more intense on Ashley's side and more subtle on Ten's side- and they won't really get together in the end anyway.**_

_****__**Please be sure to drop a review by~!**_

_****__**-Sam-**_


	5. Chapter 5: Oxygen Part 1

That was three months ago.

At least, I'm pretty sure it was three months ago. I can honestly never be sure. Stuff like the time gets confusing in here- but, hey, I don't really mind. Although I do have to set my iPhone to tell me when I should sleep for my time zone. Surprisingly, those alarms are very good.

Very good to ignore, that is. I haven't slept for ages.

Right now, at the moment, I'm lounging on the couch, reading a magazine. The Doctor's got his body hidden in a great mass of wires under the TARDIS. I don't even bother to ask what he's doing. Sometimes, I think he just likes hanging out down there.

I bite my lip and play with some of my hair. I want to go home, but I'm too scared to ask... is that a bad thing? I don't know what I would do at home, anyway, because I've got no living relatives- save for one, although he doesn't seem very fond of me at the moment.

"Aha!" the Doctor exclaims from under the TARDIS.

I look down. "What's going on?"

He bounces out. "I fixed the biofragmentary reflux loop!"

I nod. "Right," I say. "And what does that do?"

"Stabilizes the crystalline flux inside the vortex in the TARDIS!" he replies. "But I had to tweak it a little, it was getting sort of... rusty."

"Your TARDIS rusts!" I point a finger at him accusingly.

"Does not!" he says. "Just the _dead_ circuits," he corrects.

I can't help it. I burst out in fits of laughter. Wow, is that ironic. Best space ship in the universe- and it collects common Earth coatings of iron oxide.

What? Don't look at me like that. I just happen to be very smart and know that rust is made of iron oxide. I totally am not looking at my phone right now.

"So where are we going today?" I ask, wiping away tears. He looks offended.

"Well, I was thinking, we could try Auralux," he began. "There's these three planets, red, blue, and purple, and they're constantly in war with each other. Not literally, though. See, these suns are living organisms, and they have this chemical reaction when they touch each other, literally! It gives off the most beautiful light and sound, though, so I thought-"

He's interrupted by a fast blinking.

"Huh?" I ask.

He runs to the monitor. "Distress signal," he says. "Coming from out there."

I roll my eyes. In three months, it has been smooth sailing. We haven't managed to get ourselves nearly sucked into a black hole in that amount of time- and quite frankly, that might be the longest the Doctor's gone without any danger of any sort.

"What is it?" I wonder, not expecting his grave answer. "They run out of fuel and need towing?"

We've towed before. I remember, because that was the day when I painted my nails TARDIS blue. I don't know what the Doctor's doing with nail paint but frankly I don't care.

"It's a code red," he says seriously.

"Okay," I jump off the couch. "But nothing remotely dangerous, right?"

He looks serious. "I think we have to check this one, Ashey."

He pulls a lever on the TARDIS and we hurtle down the vortex. Then I hear the familiar grinding of the brake as we land.

He tears open the door. All I'm thinking is that he's making a huge deal about a little red code, when I step outside.

I see an oxygen meter on the wall the second I walk out of the TARDIS.

It's in the red on low.

I can't breathe.

I panic. I start hyperventilating. The TARDIS doors swing shut behind me. I fall to the floor. I can't breathe. I can't breathe. I can't breathe.

The Doctor puts on a serious look. "Ashey, there's air in here," he says very slowly. "There's enough."

"How much?" I ask, voice as quiet as I can. I feel like I'm breathing in water.

"Enough for thirty minutes," he tells me. "I think. Maybe twenty."

I nod. "For two of us."

He gives me a look. "No, for fifteen people."

"What?" I ask. "But there's just- oh."

How thick am I? We got a red code... someone else must be on board.

"How are you sure it's fifteen?" I gasp.

"This is a carrier ship from the 57th century," he tells me slowly. "There are no passengers. The maximum amount of people can only be 15. Any more would be against galactic law."

"Right," I say, nodding. I start to wonder why he told me the worst case scenario, then I realize that that's what I always ask for in situations like these. "Uh... then how come I can't breathe?"

"You _can_ breathe," he assures me. "There's enough oxygen in here."

I point to the meter.

"Like I said, there's air," he tells me. "Think of it like this. There's a glass full of water. You drink half. Even though it's only halfway full, you can still drink the water. The only reason you feel like you can't breathe is probably because you looked at that meter when you came in here, and panicked. It's all psychological."

Oh. Oh! I see. It's like that movie I watched. All I have to do to calm down is stop thinking about it.

Okay. That's a bit harder than it seems. Oxygen is all that's on my mind right now.

"Let's stop wasting air and go find whoever needs helping," I suggest, when a thought comes to mind. "Hey, wait a minute," I realize. "Why can't we just open the TARDIS doors and let oxygen outside here?"

The Doctor shakes his head. "The TARDIS is on an air loop. If we let out the air, when we return to the TARDIS, we'll suffocate."

"Can't you just let out a certain amount and then when we're done put the air back in?" I ask.

He gives me a look.

I think about it. Air on a filter. I'll use the cup thing again. Cup full of water. You drink the water. Then the TARDIS- er, cup, recycles the water you drank, putting it back in the cup and keeping it full. Okay. So then you pour out some water. Maybe you can't put the air back in? Or... or... oh! Duh. If you pour out all the water, then drink it, then the cup can't recycle it, and you'll use it all.

"Oh," I say. "I get it."

He nods. "See, you're catching up already!"

He springs down the hall. I follow him.

"I have a question," I nudge. "If we run, then won't we use air faster? Shouldn't we walk?"

"Don't hyperventilate," he advises. I guess he knows what he's doing. I follow him through a hallway with wires all over the wall.

"What's up with this hallway thing?" I ask.

"It's the main controls," he explains. "Controls where you stabilize the cargo," he adds, after I give him an odd look. "Cargo controls."

"Oh," I mumble. "I get it. I guess."

We keep walking. I guess we reached the front of the ship, because there's this giant glass-looking window with a bunch of controls surrounding it, and two chairs.

Then I gasp.

There's this woman sitting in one of the chairs. She's slumped over. It looks like she's sleeping.

On second glance, I can tell she is clearly dead.


	6. Chapter 6: Oxygen Part 2

I can feel my blood go cold.

That's the second person I've seen that's dead. Only she looks like she had a quick death. There's a little rivulet of blood flowing from her cheek. I'm guessing she hit her head against the controls or something. Maybe there was an impact. I don't know.

I sway a little and lean against the wall. I watch, numb, as the Doctor probes her body. It's creeping me out, to be honest. Reminds me of a scene from Frankenstein.

I'm too scared to go near her. I'm probably the worst companion ever.

"Concussion," he announces. "Blow to the head."

I nod faintly. "Yeah." then a pause. "Do you think she was scared?"

"Huh?" the Doctor asks. He's moved on to scanning the controls. I point to the body.

"Do you think she was scared when she died?" I ask.

"Maybe. I dunno," he says, shrugging. He eyes the body. "I never thought about it."

I nod for the umpteenth time. "Yeah."

My voice sounds hoarse, distant. I steal a glance behind me. "Doctor, do you think anybody on this ship is alive?"

He sighs, runs a hand through his hair in frustration. "I don't know. Why do you ask?"

I swallow. "I think I want to leave."

He clicks some keys on the control, then looks at me. There's a standard beep, the kind you hear from one of those life support thingies from the hospital.

"Is that someone?" I ask.

He nods. "There is one life-form on the ship. Living. Unconscious, though, so there's no way to contact them and ask them if they can get over here."

I swallow. "Okay. So we go and grab them, then we leave. No big deal."

"Yeah," he says, tilting his head to the side. "Shouldn't be a big problem."

"Okay, how dangerous is it?" I ask.

"Hmm?"

"You're lying," I say, pointing at him. "You're doing that thing where you scratch the back of your neck when you're nervous. And you seem really, really upset. Normally death doesn't shake you that much. So I'll ask again. How dangerous is it really?"

He motions back towards the monitor. "The oxygen is slowly escaping. There's a breach in the ship. That gives us about 10 minutes approximately to get out of here."

I suck in a breath, slowly. "Okay." I sag a little bit. "How far are they?"

He bites his lip, then tells me. "The main hallway is blocked off. Normally, it'd take us about 5 minutes to get there. However, there are breaches in the ship, meaning we'd have to go all the way around then zigzag to where they are. It should take about, say, 45 minutes?"

He looks me in the eye. I look back.

"Okay, then we'd better hurry," I say.

* * *

Don't get me wrong. I'd totally rather be in the TARDIS. Right now, though, I've got to help the Doctor.

It's just because I really, really don't want him to ditch me. I know it sounds paranoid, but everything I do terrifies me. I don't know how to react to a situation like this- if I should just laugh it off or act casual or whatever. I'm scared the littlest thing could set our relationship astray.

I know it's a bit crazy. My friends are always telling me if they ever met the Doctor, they'd be all over him in a minute. But I think the reason Rose's relationship with the Doctor wasn't so intimate was because she was afraid of scaring him away.

Yeah, I get things like that now. Not that I wanna be intimate with him or anything. I'm just using it as an example.

I duck under another little pipe. "Is there like an air vent or something we could use to get there faster?" I recall the episode 'The Impossible Planet', where Rose and everyone else escaped through the little vent system under the base. There was no air, so that guy- I forget his name- had to manipulate the system.

And I can't remember that guy who was the Devil. Not really the Devil, I mean. Just the guy with scribbles all over himself.

I can't help but shudder a bit at that thought. I'm not religious at all- in fact, I don't believe there's anything remotely magical about Earth or any systems. It always has to come down to science in the end. There's nothing special.

"Most carrier ships don't have air vents," the Doctor reminds me. "That'd be for a base, or a station of some kind."

I nod. I feel really stupid. But I think, personally, the oxygen starvation is getting to my head.

I know the Doctor mentioned the cup of water thing, but right now, right now? It feels like someone's strangling me with a scarf.

"Like the Impossible Planet," I offer.

He gives me a funny look. Oops. I forgot he wasn't Markus, back from Earth. I'm talking to him like he's actually seen the series and knows the names of all the episodes.

"Sorry," I say lamely. "Forgot real stuff in life doesn't have episode names."

He shrugs it off and ducks under another little pipe, crawling through a tunnel. I follow. My shirt gets snagged on one of the stray pieces of broken pipe. I stop and maneuver it off. Keep on crawling.

"Are we almost there?" I ask, wiping away sweat on my forehead. Nobody ever mentioned how hot it gets running around on spaceships with no oxygen. I shrug off my nice London Fog trench coat and keep moving. I'm gonna miss it, but, hey, don't they always tell you that it's not good to get all sweaty and hot when you're crawling through pipework on a ship with no oxygen? Or is that just me?

He doesn't answer my question.

"Why don't we use the TARDIS?" I wonder.

"It's too cramped where we're headed," the Doctor tells me. "The TARDIS would get stuck in between the two dimensions."

I think about it. Like one of those old video games, like Mario, where you grow big, then shrink, and get stuck inside one of the rocks.

Yeah, that would probably suck for the TARDIS.

"Can I just ask you one more thing?" I wonder. I know, I'm probably wasting oxygen, but I need to stop thinking about that body we found by the controls.

"You, uh, know in that one episode- I mean, uh, that time in Manhattan, with the Weeping Angels, where they take Manhattan?" Wow, that might've been the dumbest thing I ever said. "Why couldn't you just ask Amy and Rory to go walk or drive over to another continent or something, if you can't land in New York? Or land in a different year or something and wait for them."

He is silent. "I couldn't remove them from their timeline. It'd blow a gap in the universe."

I keep trying. I really want to know. I'm such a terrible person, I know.

Suddenly, I'm reminded of Jack (not the Jack from Torchwood, my Jack) and Angela, crying their eyes out, me sitting numbly in a chair staring at the paper on the desk, wondering if I've gone too far this time.

But I obviously haven't learned from that time, because I keep talking.

"Couldn't you come back for them when they got older, like, maybe 50 years afterwards or something?" I ask.

"The time link would be broken after 40 years, yes," he says, sounding a bit distracted.

"So why didn't you come back for them?" I ask.

No answer.

I look at the Doctor. He's not looking at me. Rather, he's glancing ahead of him.

"I think we found a shortcut!" he sing-songs.

Well, whatever. He can dodge my question for now, but I want to find out later.

Does that make me a bad person?


	7. Chapter 7: Oxygen Part 3

"Really?" I ask, as he whips out his sonic screwdriver and starts scanning.

"Help me move this pipe," he says. I lean over and help him push. The pipe falls aside. A small door comes into view.

"Wow," I say.

"Wasn't on the main map of the ship," he mumbles. "Must be some kind of hidden room." He sonics it open and we both step inside.

"Wow," I repeat, looking around the room, dazed. There are these giant containers hidden in the vast collection of pipes. I look down. The pipes appear to have formed a small corridor.

"These are illegal," the Doctor says, regarding the pipes. "Contained from fusion scoops. Outlawed in-"

I clap a hand over his mouth. "Doctor, the person. Remember? We're looking for them?"

He looks embarrassed. "Right. Sorry. Let's go. Allons-y!"

Okay, that word is officially the scariest word in the world now. Just saying. It might be all fun and games for everyone else, but I never want to hear the Doctor speak French again. Ever. Please. Thank you.

He charges down the corridor of pipes. I follow him. He suddenly stops. I crash into him.

"Ow!" I say. "My nose!"

He points. "There's hot steam ahead."

"It looks like it's spraying sporadically," I point out.

He nods. "Yeah. Be careful."

He darts in front of the steam. I wait for it to spray. It sprays. I run. I just miss another spray of steam.

"Please tell me that that is the only leak," I pray.

"That's the only leak," he says.

We keep walking.

There's another leak.

"You bloody liar," I say, glaring at him.

"You told me to tell you," he says, shrugging. He misses the steam.

I get hit.

I scream at the top of my lungs and throw myself away from the explosion of heat. I collide with the Doctor. There's a loud thunk as his head connects with the wall. I clutch at my arm, hyperventilating.

He sounds worried, angry, and annoyed at the same time. "Ashey! Are you all right?"

"Feck!" I shout. "No, I am not all right!"

He sighs. "You are, 'cos you're yelling." he holds his head with one hand.

"Sorry," I say. "I didn't mean to push you."

He sighs. "I know."

We keep treading, his hand on his head, my arm shaking. That steam really, really hurts. It feels like it's still burning my skin, actually. I hope it isn't. I've read about fires, where the fire keeps eating away at your skin.

On second thought, I don't want to think about that.

I can't breathe.

I push forward. "Hey, Doctor?"

"Yes?"

"If I pass out, will you be okay?" I ask. "Like, can you get me back to the TARDIS?"

"We're going to be fine, Ashey," he says, avoiding the question.

"I know," I say, "But I still just want to know."

He doesn't answer me. I should have expected that much.

We finally reach the end of the long tunnel. He pushes the rubble in front of the exit away and opens the door painfully slow.

We both stumble out. There isn't any more air out here than there is in there, but I feel safer outside, nonetheless.

There's a click behind us. I freeze, my hands shooting above my head. I wince as my burnt arm is jostled.

"What are you doing on my ship?!" a girl, maybe 28 or so, is panting, slick with sweat, holding some kind of gun at our heads.

"We got your distress signal," the Doctor says.

The girl blinks, the gun falling to the floor. "Thank god," she breathes. "You're a rescue team. I'm Lily. Can you hook up your transport to this area?"

The Doctor scratches the back of his neck. "Actually, we have to go to it."

Lily looks at him like he's insane. "We have, like, 5 minutes of air left."

"So let's hurry, then," the Doctor says.

"You're a double liar," I hiss at him as the girl ushers us down the tunnel of pipes. "You said it would take longer to get here. And that she was unconscious."

He shrugs. "That was what the computer told us. I can't be held accountable for human's technology. And people can wake up, you know."

"Well, what if it was Time Lords?" I ask. "I mean, what if Time Lords made this system?"

"Time Lords wouldn't make a system like this," the Doctor says.

I want to smack my palm against my face. We keep walking for a while.

"We're going to make it in time, right?" I ask after about a minute of walking. The Doctor nods.

"'Course. We just need to be careful."

We keep on walking.

Then I gasp (but not really); it feels as if all the air has been sucked out of my lungs.

"Doctor," I mouth, but he doesn't seem to hear me. My lungs feel like someone's dumped a bucket of lava into them.

I punch him in the back. He turns around.

"Can't breathe no air," I mouth.

"There's plenty of air," he says, shocked.

"SONIC!" I mouth.

He sonics me in an instant, stares at the results for a moment.

"All the oxygen in your body has vanished!" he says.

"Is something going on?" Lily asks.

"Yes," the Doctor says, grimacing. "Something is going on. Ashey, I need you to try to breathe. Can you do that?"

His hands are on my shoulders, supporting me. I forcefully shake my head and my eyes roll back into the back of my head.

He slaps me in the face. "Ashey, you need to stay awake. Can you breathe?"

I feel like someone has tied knots in my throat. I can't suck in air. Wait, no, I can, but it feels like it vanishes every time I do.

I shake my head no.

He looks at me for a minute.

Then he ducks forward and his lips crash against mine.


	8. Chapter 8: Oxygen: Epilogue

I freeze for a minute.

O. Frikkin. M. Frikkin. G.

The Doctor just snogged me. Then breathed into my mouth. Well, actually it was just the latter. Although I'd like to believe the first was true.

That is not as pleasant or as comfortable as it sounds.

"EEW!" I shriek, pushing him away from me. I suck in sweet air.

"There goes two years of my life," the Doctor mumbles. Ok, he used regeneration energy on me. That was kinda sweet. I wouldn't mind much unless I DIDN'T HAVE FREAKING DOCTOR BREATH IN MY MOUTH.

"What just happened?" Lily sounds dazed.

"Some sort of alien parasite got Ashey," he explains.

"GROSS!" I say. "That. is. so. Gross!"

"I'm not gross!" he protests.

"I meant the parasite," I pant out. "And your breath. Not the kiss. That was nice. You're free to do it again."

He gives me the 'are-you-really-flirting-with-me-right-now' look. I nod yes.

He exhales sharply. "Let me explain. This ship has illegal cargo used from fusion scoops. And I've had experiences in the past. You need to tell me where you got the scoops from."

Lily stares at him. "I don't know anything 'bout any sort of fusion scoops. I swear."

"What was your job aboard this ship, exactly?" the Doctor wonders.

"Guys?" I pant. "TARDIS? Safety?"

"We can't get in the TARDIS right now," the Doctor says.

"Why not?!" I nearly shriek.

"Doesn't matter. Lily?"

Lily shrugs. "I just performed... simple maintenance. Just assistance for others, I s'pose."

The Doctor nods. "I see. You know, the funny thing is, Lily, I've had experience with fusion scoops. And I know a carbon-dioxide consuming alien parasite when I see one. And right now? Well, it happens to be staring me in the face."

"I'm not an alien!" Lily says, jumping about ten feet backwards. "You keep away from me!"

"Lily, there is a chance it can be reversed," the Doctor says. "I just need you to tell me where-"

WHAM

Okay, if the situation wasn't so grave, I would have to take slapping lessons from Lily. She takes off immediately after hitting the Doctor.

I look at the Doctor. Save the Doctor? Go get evil alien parasite? Save the Doctor?

Screw saving him. That's Clara's job.

I take off after Lily. She's disappearing down the tunnels. I don't know what to do when I get her, but the Doctor'll probably get up soon anyway. I hope. I don't have a clue what I'm doing.

Wow, I must really be starved of oxygen.

"HEY, EVIL ALIEN PARASITE?!" I scream. "YEAH, CAN YOU SLOW DOWN A BIT? FAT HUMAN CHICK CHASING AFTER YOU! DID NOT SIGN UP FOR EXERCISE CLASS!"

That's not helping my cause much, but it makes me feel better if that's any consolation.

I am so damn lucky I used to take track. Was the fastest in my class, apparently. Other than that, I absolutely suck at anything athletic. Running? My best talent.

Apparently evil alien parasites from outer space do not have the running merits I do, 'cause I caught up to this one alien particularly quickly.

I tackle her to the ground. Then I punch her in the jaw.

"Ow!" I say, recoiling. What is her jaw made of? Titanium? Rocks? My fist hurts!

Or maybe I'm just a lousy puncher.

She hisses hot steam at me. No, literally. When I say 'hot steam', I mean 'hot steam'. Not as hot as the steam before, but hot enough to make me shriek and roll over to the side.

Holy freaking crap! That's it! Doctor, you are fired from being my protector!

...I was totally not calling him My Protecter in my mind. No siree.

"Look," I tell Lily, who is now holding her jaw. "You can totally... I don't know. But... uh, listen. How about this? You tell that little alien in your head that-"

She opens her mouth and hisses. Her eyes flash red. Like LED red. I'm reminded of a stop light for a second.

"Oh, seriously? That's so stupid!" I shout. "And really cliched! Missy, you do NOT do the flashy eye thing on me!"

Honest? I'm way freaked out here. Like to the I'm-going-to-faint-right-now freaked out.

Suddenly, there's this sucking noise. Like someone slurping water from a straw. Except the cup is empty, so it's especially loud.

Yeah.

Now picture the same sound, except with air.

I fall on the floor, like a puppet cut from its strings. Lily lets out this creepy shriek, like a banshee. Everything else happens so fast. Lily falls over too. Someone picks me up.

I close my eyes.

When I open them again, I'm back in the TARDIS. Someone has unceremoniously dumped me on the couch.

Ten's kneeling next to me. "Oh, hello," he says.

I lean over, then slap him. "Ow! What was that for?"

"That was for getting knocked out and falling asleep on me," I say, matter-of-factly. "She was a bloody girl!"

"A girl who happened to be possessed by a higher-species alien," he tells me with a frown.

"And you aren't a higher-species alien?" I ask incredulously.

"Still, could've been worse," he says, standing and helping me up. I almost fall over again.

"It could not have been!" I shout.

"We walked down a tunnel, found a girl who was possessed, got rid of the parasite, now we're back," he says. "Be glad it wasn't anything bigger."

I cross my arms. "Fine, but we aren't making any more stops for red alerts."

He pouts. Agrees. I don't think he's serious.

Unfortunately, I didn't expect what happened next to be worse.

* * *

_**Yay! Hello! Please do leave a review on your way out. Next chapter will feature a very, very foggy planet, living mist, and some statues which you should be sure not to blink while viewing...**_

_**R&R!**_


	9. Chapter 9: Fountain of Youth Part 1

I don't know what happened when I was out cold on that little spaceship with no air, and, frankly, I don't give a crap. I am curious, of course, but when it comes down to it, I don't want to think about that day.

So when we land on this nice little planet covered with mist, all worries about oxygen leave my mind. If there's water vapor here, there's got to be some buttload of oxygen here. I mean, come on.

"Wow," I whisper. "It's beautiful."

The Doctor nods. "Yeah, it is. Actually, today's the day when the sun rises for the first time in 100 years."

I spin around. "I'm gonna see a rainbow?"

"You're gonna see a rainbow," he tells me with a grin.

I let out a little squeal. I love rainbows! There are no rainbows in the UK. Or in Japan. That's for those lucky swines in grass skirts in Hawaii.

"It's just a rainbow, you know," he says, raising an eyebrow.

"But this whole place is just water vapor!" I declare. "There'll be tons of rainbows!"

He sighs. "All of time and space, and you have a... what's it called?"

"Fangirl attack," I giggle.

"Fangirl attack over a rainbow," he agrees. "Well, then, come on."

"This is fantastic," I exclaim. "An actual rainbow. Actual living rainbow. A rainbow that- EEEK!"

"What?!" he asks, suddenly alert. "What is it?"

I smack him on the arm. "I was just teasing you, you fool! I knew it, though. Did you get some kind of help message? Psychic paper give you a red light?"

He glares at me. "This is just for fun! No aliens, promise."

"Hmm, is it odd I don't believe you?" I ask.

He rolls his eyes. We keep walking a bit.

"There are lots of puddles around here," I mumble. "Shoulda worn boots."

He kicks at the water. "Well, what do you expect? We're walking on water."

I freeze. "Seriously?!"

He nods. "Yeah."

"You're lying," I say.

"I'm not," he tells me.

I laugh. "No way!"

"Way," he says, very seriously.

"I'm walking on water!"

"You're walking on water."

I point a finger at him. "You're walking on water too!"

"Yep. I am."

"But how is that even possible?" I wonder. "I mean... walking on water?"

"Surface tension," the Doctor says. "Think of it like a giant lake, and we're insects on the surface."

"Riiight," I say, nodding. "I studied surface tension, and that makes absolutely no sense."

He chuckles. "It's a big universe."

A thought occurs to me. "What if I sink or something?"

"You aren't going to sink."

"But I haven't been eating any veggies lately, I'm like a 100 pound weight!"

"You're not going to sink, Ashey."

"Are you calling me a 100 pound weight?"

"I am not calling you a hundred pound weight," he reassures me. "Now, come on!"

I laugh. "Where are we going?"

"Nowhere in particular," the Doctor says. "Just walking on water."

"I don't even believe you anymore," I mumble. "All right. So, when the sun rises, what's going to happen?"

"Rainbows everywhere."

"Wouldn't all the water evaporate?" I ask. "And... how would gravity work here, anyway?"

"Magic," he teases me.

"Oh, come on, no sciencey-wiency explanation for me?"

"You would just tell me to say it in English."

"Be fair," I mumble. "Anyone would. Now, explanation?"

He sighs. "There's a little core in the centre of the planet. This planet is manmade. Tourist spot."

"If it's for tourists, how comes it's empty?" I wonder.

"It used to be for tourists. Now, they just use it for experiments. Actually, I don't even know the science behind it, really. Should be impossible. Fact that this planet exists is like an anomaly in space and time," he says.

"I'm an anomaly," I tell him.

He looks surprised. "How do you mean?"

"I was born the 29th of February," I tell him. He looks mildly surprised.

"No. Really?"

I nod. "Really." I giggle. "I was never born!"

"Ah," he mumbles. "You win."

"Yep. I win," I say, nodding. "So, then-"

"Freeze! Remain with your hands up in the air!" someone shouts. Lights flash everywhere. A group of five people in white coat thingies come swarming around us.

With guns.

"Doctor!" I hiss.

"Don't look at me!" he says. "Not my fault, is it?"

I roll my eyes. "It's always your fault. And, they've got guns!"

"All right, all right, look, we come in peace," the Doctor says carefully.

"How did you get on this planet?" the redhead in the centre asks.

"I was sent... for a routine... water check," the Doctor says. "Gravity fields. Boring stuff like that. If I might show you my credentials?"

She lowers her gun and nods. The Doctor flashes his psychic paper.

"Jamie, go tell the lab we're fine up here," redhead says, pocketing her gun. "Sorry," she apologizes. "Didn't know you were with the Shadow Proclamation."

"He didn't know either," I mumble, but nobody seems to hear me.

"Angela Hartman," she says, extending a hand. The Doctor shakes it. "The Doctor. And Ashey."

I wave. "Hi."

"And what, may I ask, are you doing here?" Angela inquires.

"What aren't they doing here?" I ask. "I mean, why isn't anyone here?"

"I explained this earlier, Ashey," the Doctor says. "Weren't you listening?"

I smile. "Well... if you count _pretending to listen_ as _listening_, then, yes, I was listening."

He looks like he wants to smack his palm against his face. Angela seems to notice the conflict and gives a little wave, clears her throat.

"Ahem. Ah, would you like to see the facility? We're almost finished with our final project."

I smile and nod like a puppet. "Yeah, sure. Why not?"

"This way."

She gestures behind her and the Doctor and I clamber after her.


	10. Chapter 10: Fountain of Youth Part 2

I'm bloody underwater.

I can't believe this. Honestly, I can't. Underwater. And I'm breathing air.

Let me explain. Apparently the research lab thingy is underwater. Very clever. Made of air pockets.

Okay. I'm just going to go prevent another fangirl attack from happening by banging my head against the wall. If there were walls in here, anyway.

"Aren't you ever scared the air bubble will get all sealed up and you'll drown?" I ask, studying some tubes and monitors.

The Doctor gives me a look. I'm being rude, apparently.

Oh, right, because he is always so polite!

"We've just completed our final project," Angela says, leading us to a final room. "The water of immortality. Water that can bring the dead back."

I glance around, nervous. There are hundreds of tanks filled with water, murky and clear. Lots of pipes and something that resembles a massive IV drip. Feels all steampunky. I'd probably enjoy it a bit more if I wasn't so freaked out by what Angela just said.

"You can't bring the dead back," I argue. "...Can you?"

I think about it. In that one episode with Big Ears, there's these gas-mask people, and the one kid gets brought back to life. Or was he never dead?

Damn, I need to rewatch those episodes when I get back home.

If I get back home.

If I _want_ to get back home.

The Doctor takes out his black glasses – mm, sexy... no, concentrate – and fits them on, sliding them onto his face. Studies the containers of water. Pushes on one of the clear blood-bag things that are filled with water.

"No," he says.

Okay. That's nice.

"So... how is it possible?" I whisper into his ear as Angela rambles on.

He shakes his head. "It isn't."

I feel my stomach drop. "Oh."

"Yeah."

"Listen, mister," I warn him. "There better not be anything dangerous around here. You got me?"

He raises his eyebrows. "Can't make any guarantees..."

I stop. "I am putting my foot down, mister. If you think there is any danger here, then I am going to go into the TARDIS and sit this one out."

"No need," he mumbles. "We should be fine. Probably something small, like stolen tech. Could be phony, even. We don't know if what she's saying is even true, yet."

His words do little to reassure me, although I feel a bit better.

"-not to mention that there have only been a select amount of tests run," Angela says, clapping her hands together. "All of the water you see has been harvested from the planet."

She leads us towards the back of the room. I freeze. There's a metal table. A body strapped to the table. All pale and yucky.

Gross!

The Doctor walks over to the table. Takes out his sonic. Scans the body.

"Completely dead," he confirms.

I make a face.

"We'll see about that," Angela says with a smirk. "Commence with the program!"

I nearly jump at a loud, roaring noise that reverberates throughout the hall. I glance around me. The pumps are nearly bursting with water and there are red lights flashing.

Oh, please don't tell me they're blowing up the lab or something stupid like that.

"Program at one-hundred percent!" someone in the lab shouts.

"Fix the hypernetic fields!"

"What are they doing?" I ask the Doctor.

"They're compressing the oxygen in the water..." he says, studying the machine. "Then they're pumping the water into the body..."

"Wouldn't it explode? How can a body handle all that water?" I ask, making a face.

"They're draining it out... like flooding something then taking all the water away..." he says.

"Yuck," I say, making a face. "Gross."

The lab shuts down.

All the lights are off.

I grab the Doctor's arm and squeeze.

"Power at two percent. Boosting energy fields," someone says.

The lights flicker back on.

My attention flies towards the person on the table. The dead person. The... breathing person.

"But that's impossible," the Doctor says, staring at the body. The... now living body. "That's not possible."

"Well, it happened, so obviously it is," Angela says dryly.

"Ugh," I say, watching as the person sits up. All soaked. "That's nasty!"

The Doctor bounds over to the table and scans the person with the sonic. "No, no way!"

"What is it?" I call.

"Completely alive," he says. "Well, unconscious. But he's completely alive."

Angela smirks. "We've finally completed it, ladies and gentleman."

There is a bout of clapping that erupts from the scientists. The Doctor and I look at each other.

"Oh, you've got to be joking me," I moan. "Not again. Trouble?"

He beams. "Oh, yes."

"I told you I was sitting this one out if there was trouble."

"Come on," he says.

"I'm gonna regret this," I groan.

* * *

_**By the way, I know Ashey's response to the dead body is a bit dumb and meek, but the whole point is to see how she develops over her travels with the Doctor. We're seeing a very different Ashley here than, per se, at around chapter 20 or so. Painting her nails, snarky comments, they all play a key role in her character development.**_

_**Anyway...**_

_**R&R!**_


	11. Chapter 11: Fountain of Youth Part 3

"Ah," I groan. "You're kidding. If I die, I am so killing you."

He walks over to Angela slowly. "So... do tell me. How did you manage to achieve this?"

Angela frowns. "Well, Doctor, I'm afraid I can't share that with you. Confidential information and all that."

I put my hands up in defeat. "Don't bother. Trust me. I wouldn't understand if you said anyway."

Angela gives me a bit of a funny look. The Doctor just seems annoyed. Ok. So everything's normal with him, then.

"What's in the water?" the Doctor wonders, poking at one of the tanks. "Because if I know one thing, I know it for a fact, and that is that you can't have possibly achieved this with regular H2O."

Angela freezes a bit, but her facade never fades. Facade never fades... that actually sounds really nice. I should get that patented, somehow.

"As I mentioned earlier, Doctor, all the water is retrieved from the surface of the planet," Angela says.

"Show me," the Doctor mumbles.

* * *

"Whoa," I say, eyeing the surface of the planet under light. We really ARE on water. Strange. "So how are we gonna... you know, get the water without breaking the surface tension? You got a water magnet?

There is no response.

"Oh, my God," I say. "You have a water magnet? Do ya? Do ya?"

"We don't have a water magnet," Angela says.

"Oh. Bummer. You should invent one. And credit me."

"Instead, we use these," she says, tossing me something round. Looks like a CD, a bit. A weird, black and blue glowing CD.

"You use Blu-Ray CDs?" I ask.

"It's a water extrapolator," Angela explains. I shrug and hand mine to the Doctor. He grins.

"Oh, but that's brilliant!" he says.

"How does it work?" I ask.

"Think about it like this," he tells me. "Have you ever done that thing where you take a piece of tape and then a needle, then you can poke a hole inside the balloon without popping the balloon, but still releasing the air?"

"Ohhh," I say. "So this is like tape, and using one of these CD things, we can extract water from the surface without breaking surface tension?"

"Yep," he says, popping the p.

"Makes sense," I say.

"Of course it does," Angela says, placing hers on the surface. Water upwells. She scoops out a cup from her pocket and takes a sample, then stands up and presses something on the disc thing. It closes.

"Here you are, then," Angela says, tossing the Doctor the tube of water.

"Huh," he says, dipping a finger in.

"So what's in it?" I ask. He licks his finger. "Yuck!"

"Tongue test," he says, frowning. "Normal water."

"Not exactly," Angela says. "The water seems to be alive."

"Lemme scan it," he says. "Hold onto this, Ashey?" he hands me the vial and digs around in his coat for the sonic.

I look at the water. "Oh, that is so weird. I mean, it's like normal water, but all the same, it gives off that weird... feeling."

The Doctor look surprised. "What feeling?"

I shrug. "It's... weird. Feels like it's watching me."

He gives me the Look and eyes me. "You've been watching too many horror movies." he takes the vial from me and scans it. "But this... registers as living. Water's living. But that's impossible!"

"That's about the fourth time you've said something was impossible today. It's obviously possible, Doctor," I mumble. "It's... uh, like that sun thing. You know, from the episode with you and Martha, and you had 42 minutes to save the spaceship thing from the sentient sun thing?"

"I don't speak Ashey," the Doctor says.

"Watch it," I warn him.

"What do you mean by episode?" the Doctor asks.

"Don't you know? Back home, you've got a show about you. Called 'Doctor Who'."

"Ooh, dangerous question."

"I'm being serious here."

"And I'm not. A TV show, then?"

"Yeah."

"That's strange," he says. "I've been to Rose's Earth, before. She never mentioned a Doctor Who."

"Paradox?" I suggest.

"Eh?"

"You said, when we met, the only reason we're here is because of a paradox," I explain. "Maybe... something happened."

"Two words collided," the Doctor says, with a frown. "Makes nonsense."

"Makes nonsense?"

"Yeah, it's a phrase I just invented."

"You shoulda been an Inventor, not a Doctor."

"I like Doctor better."

"Doctor of what, exactly?"

"Everything."

"You can't be a Doctor of everything."

"Oh, but I am. We-ll, except medicine."

"How can you be a Doctor and not know medicine?" I ask. "That's not even a proper title!"

All the time, Angela is watching us, amused. Probably terribly confused, too. Amused, confused. Hey, that rhymed! I'll get that patented as well.

"Oy! I do study medicine. Just not... human medicine," he says, swallowing.

"So if I, like... fall over, and I need CPR, you won't know what to do?" I ask, incredulous.

"Not really," the Doctor says.

"But you just said you-"

"I said I didn't study medicine. Everyone knows CPR."

"I don't know CPR."

"Well, you aren't everyone. You're... Ashey."

"Was that an insult?"

"That was not an insult."

"It sounded like an insult."

"That was not an insult."

"Well, watch it," I mutter.

Suddenly, Angela's wrist beeps. We both look up.

"Communicator," she mumbles. "We've got a problem. You two, back to the lab. Now."

* * *

"Okay," I say, looking around the lab. "I'm trying not to panic."

All the lights are off. It's pitch black and I hear these... sort of squelching noises. Like a dripping faucet.

Well, damn. I hate dripping faucets.

"I'm not scared," I say, grabbing onto the Doctor's arm.

"I'm sure you're not," he says. "Although... it might be nice if my arm didn't fall off from lack of circulation."

"Sorry," I say, grabbing his hand. "Oh, gross, your hand's all cold! Is this the one that grew back?"

"It's the other one," he says.

"Well, good, because if I was holding that one, I'd feel like it'd snap off."

"I'm not that fragile."

"You so are."

"Agh," Angela grumbles.

"Eek!" I squeeze the Doctor's hand a bit harder, if it's even possible.

"Sorry, sorry, just cut my hand," Angela mumbles.

"Right," the Doctor says.


	12. Chapter 12: Fountain of Youth Part 4

We continue walking until this low, earthy, moaning sound erupts throughout the laboratory.

"Ok," I mumble. "Getting creeped out now. Do you have any... uh... I dunno. Backup lights, or anything?"

Angela scoffs. "Just what kind of scientific team are you two?"

"I'm no scientist," I mumble. "I'm just tagging along. Trust me, he knows what he's doing."

She shrugs. "Fair enough. Now, if you would-"

There's a loud clanking noise.

"What the hell was that?!" I ask, springing backwards, wide-eyed.

"Something in the dark," the Doctor says gravely.

"Yeah, that is not helping!" I squeal, trying to hide behind his back. I'd be embarrassed if I wasn't so terrified.

"Ashey, you're gonna be all right," he says. "Promise." he squeezes my hand.

"Yeah, but... j-just being c-careful, you know," I say.

There's another clatter.

"Can I have the sonic?" I ask.

"What for?" he sounds surprised.

I'll feel safer if I have it... "I can use it as a flashlight," I say. "Pleeeaaase? Pwetty please?"

"Uh... oh, all right, then," he grumbles, handing me the sonic.

Had one of my friends been here, I would've expected some insane panic attack. I mean, I'm holding the Doctor's sonic screwdriver. Literally. The real one. All shiny and metallic and stuff.

Except I don't think now's a good time to have a panic attack.

I press the button and the sonic squeals, lighting up. Some glass shatters. I shriek. "What setting is it on? Freak Ashley out setting?" I wail.

"Nah, it's 128B," he says. "Freak Ashey out setting is 437A."

"Seriously?!" I ask.

He just smiles wickedly.

I raise the sonic again, a bit more careful this time. "So how does it work?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" he mumbles.

"Oy, I'm serious," I tell him, before freezing. "Oh, my god. You got me to say 'Oy'. I'm becoming British..."

"I thought you were British," he sounds surprised.

"I'm American, 'tho I lived in the UK for a bit," I admit, biting my lip. The sonic's making a lot of noise. Very distracting. "Does the sonic have a no-sound setting?"

"What?" the Doctor asks. Apparently I've got a talent at astonishing him.

"You know," I say, making absurd motions with my hands. "Like a setting where it just has the light, but not the sonic-y sound. You know, the... bbrbrbzbbzz sound," I say, trying to mimic the sonic.

"Didn't know the sonic made choking noises," he says with a grin.

"I'm serious! Does it?"

"There's no point in having a sonic screwdriver if it isn't sonic," he tells me, sounding a bit disgusted.

"Well, you should get a flashlight," I mumble.

"Takes all the fun out of it!"

"Really?" I ask, spinning around. Apparently quick movement makes the sonic louder, because more glass shatters.

"Do you mind?!" Angela shouts. "Stop breaking my research!"

"I'm sorry, I don't know how to use it!" I say.

"Just keep it calm," the Doctor says. "Still movements. Maybe don't let your hand shake so much."

Oh, right, because I am totally not scared right now and have complete control over my limbs! I'm just shaking my hand because it is just the most amusing thing ever. Yep. That's me.

"Like I can help it!" I snap.

He puts his hands up in defeat. "It was just a suggestion."

I mumble something under my breath and we keep walking.

Then Angela screams.

I freeze, stuttering. "Angela?"

She falls to the ground. If life was a movie, then this would be one of those scenes where multiple things happen very, very quickly.

1) Every single glass item in the lab breaks, causing me to shriek.

2) Angela rolls over and looks up at the ceiling with green- freaking **green** eyes.

3) I let out a wail of terror and the Doctor tenses up.

4) Something slimy hits me on the face.

"OH MY GOD!" I scream, swiping desperately at my eyes. "GET IT THE FECK OFF!"

The Doctor's waving his arms everywhere, grabs the screwdriver from me. Scans it at my face.

Yeah, scanning is gonna help us! I guess equally at this moment there are pink clouds in the sky because pigs went flying up into the atmosphere and exploded and their blood evaporated and became clouds!

...Don't look at me like that. I'm under a lot of stress right now.

"Ugh!" he shouts, cleanly yanking the thing off my face.

I pant. There's this nasty, slimy green grime all over my face.

"WHAT. The. FECK WAS THAT?!" I scream.

He throws it to the floor, looking a bit disgusted. "Angela's dead."

"THERE WAS AN ALIEN ON MY FACE!" I shriek. "A living alien! And all you can do is point out that Angela's-"

Dead. Oh. That's kind of depressing.

But still! There was an alien on my face! That is really traumatizing!

When I think about it, I'm a bit ashamed at my reaction to death. I can't really judge something I don't get... but all I can think about right now is me.

I'm such a selfish betch.

"Whoa!" Angela immediately jumps up, her forehead almost whacking the Doctor's.

"What?!" he asks. "What?!"

"Aren't you used to people coming back to life?" I ask sarcastically.

"You were dead," the Doctor says seriously.

"And now I'm not," Angela retorts. "I've been drinking that water for ages, Doctor. It's got regenerative energies."

"The question isn't how you came back to life..." the Doctor says, pacing. "The question is... how did you die?"

"There was a lot of glass," I say. "Maybe it was that."

"We'd see the glass," the Doctor said. "There were no signs of physical trauma anywhere on her body."

"I..." Angela pauses. "I don't know."

"What was it like?!" I ask, eagerly. Oh, man, if I was back with my publisher, this answer would get me a job, like, anywhere. Anywhere!

"What was what like?"

"Being dead?" I ask.

"I don't remember," Angela says, shaking her head. "It was like a dream."

"Bummer," I mumble.

That's when I realize that her eyes are still green.


End file.
